


Faeries Wear Suits (and you gotta believe me)

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Drama, Fae & Fairies, Fae Harvey, Fae Magic, Kidnapping, Lawyer Mike, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sprite on Fairy Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27899320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: Dark Fae Harvey is tasked by King Oberon with keeping an eye on the human realm, where his attention is caught by Mike Ross. Mike is a fledgling lawyer in Manhattan minding his own business while trying to impress his boss, Travis Tanner. After Harvey accidentally reveals his fairy self to Mike, Oberon orders Harvey to bring Mike back to the Faerie Realm to face punishment – for Harvey’s transgressions. Harvey must be punished as well, and sly Oberon decides this will begin with him being forced to watch as Oberon spends one night with Mike. Will Harvey be able to stand by and watch Mike suffer at Oberon’s hands? Or will he go against his own nature for the sake of a mere human?
Relationships: Mike Ross/Harvey Specter
Comments: 18
Kudos: 44
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gentle_impulsion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentle_impulsion/gifts).



> This is my second auction fic (for Fandom Trumps Hate). The lovely bidder gentle_impulsion described to me a Suits kink meme prompt they remembered from many years ago. I’m not sure my rendering follows the prompt in every way, but I think I came close. I hope you like what I’ve done with it, dear bidder! Thanks so much for bidding on me, and for donating to a great charity. (I can’t remember which one you chose, but they were all great haha.)
> 
> Also, my version of the Fae and the Faerie Realm are partly based on research (of made up stuff), and partly based on just making stuff up myself. 
> 
> Oh, and the title? If you’re familiar with the works of Black Sabbath, you might recognize it as a play on their song “Fairies Wear Boots.”

“Beware of the Fae Folk,” Mike’s grandmother often warned him, usually when she was on her third glass of wine. “Look out for fairy rings, and never walk alone at night during a full moon. If you ever meet one of the Fae, you must not accept food or drink from them. You’ll know when they’re about. You may feel a tingle on your skin, smell something that shouldn’t be there, spot a crow or a raven, or witness an oddity of weather. Pay attention or you’ll be magicked away to the Unseelie Court and held there forever to entertain the King – if he lets you live.”

That didn’t sound so bad, eleven-year-old Mike mused. Well, except for that last, maybe not living part. The Un-Whatever Court had to be better than being here without his mom and dad, even if his grandmother was pretty entertaining when she was drinking.

“Just to be safe,” she slurred, “keep some iron handy to ward off danger. If that doesn’t work, give the creature something shiny or sweet to win their friendship. Mostly, though, just avoid them altogether. Nothing good can come from consorting with them. They’re wicked and sly and will ensnare and enslave you before you even know what’s happening.”

Mike might have been just a kid, but he wasn’t stupid. “This is Brooklyn, Grammy,” he objected. “I’m more worried about that sixth grader down the block who keeps trying to steal my bike.”

She made a disapproving sound. “There are pathways between their world and ours, if you know where to look.”

“Then I won’t look. Problem solved.”

As he grew older, Grammy must have realized he was past the age for fairy tales, because she gradually stopped telling them. As was the way of his unique mind, all that information stuck, even though it moved far into the background and it was many years before he had cause to think of it again.

******

Signs and portents had been showing up for a two weeks or more. Later, Mike would wish he’d paid closer attention. It started on a Monday, on his bike ride through the park, when he’d passed one of what his Grammy used to call “fairy circles,” a perfect ring of mushrooms in the damp grass.

Vibrant rainbows lit up the sky for several days running, even after the rain had left. Whenever Mike went outside, flashes of movement flitted in and out of his peripheral vision. Scents followed him – floral and earthy, woven through with a whiff of ozone. Objects went missing continually, only to show up later in a different spot. First it was his phone, then the briefs he’d been proofing, his highlighter, his key card. He chalked it up to the stress of the court case he was preparing with Travis, and which he hoped to second-chair.

Most disturbing of all, dozens of times every day he had a strong sense of being followed and watched. He would glimpse a shadowy figure in the corner of his eye, but if he turned to look directly at them, nobody was there.

He’d given up all drugs when Travis hired him, so that couldn’t explain the odd occurrences. It crossed his mind to make an appointment with his doctor to schedule an MRI, but there never seemed to be time, plus he felt perfectly healthy.

He continued to ignore the warnings until it proved too late. Grammy would have been so disappointed.

******

New associates at Pearson Tanner & Litt rarely got a real lunch break. Even a quick dash to the food carts in front of the building might garner judgmental looks from co-workers, implying duties being shirked, and a general lack of commitment to the legal profession.

Six months into his employment, Mike no longer let that bother him. He’d proven time and again that he could work circles around any other associate, first-year or otherwise. He’d also discovered that if he failed to fuel up, he’d end up loopy or prone to fits of mania, so he took the ten minutes to stand in line for a bagel or a hot dog. Travis scolded him once, his first week on the job, but after Mike had shown what he was capable of, Travis stopped complaining and started texting Mike his food order just before noon.

It had been another rainy morning, but the sun was peeking out from behind thinning clouds when Mike emerged from the building and headed for Phil’s hot dog cart. His mouth watered as he imagined spicy brown mustard and sauerkraut hitting his tongue. The line at the cart was long, but Phil could whip together the dogs in triple-quick time. Mike would be back upstairs before anybody missed him.

He took his place behind a tall, broad-shouldered man and settled in to wait, allowing his mind to wander. The case was coming together nicely, and Travis seemed pleased with his work. If the animosity of the other associates were anything to go by, he was having a stellar first year at the firm.

The line moved a couple of inches. Mike stuck his hand in his trouser pocket and jingled the change there. The man in front of him shot him a dark look over his shoulder, causing Mike to swallow hard. The guy was almost otherworldly handsome. Obsidian eyes regarded him coolly, expression giving nothing away. Mike’s mouth pinched into a grimace and he averted his gaze. The man faced forward again.

Another high-strung, type A asshole, Mike concluded. The city was full of them. He supposed he was in training to be that guy. He’d fight like hell not to end up that way, but perhaps it was inevitable. The guy was good looking at least. The quality of his impeccably tailored grey suit was something a lowly first-year like Mike could only dream of, and his cologne or aftershave was amazing too, floral and earthy and tantalizing seductive.

A finger of sunlight broke through the clouds and touched the man’s shoulder, turning the grey wool momentarily iridescent. Mike blinked rapidly. No, it was just regular wool serge. Extra fine quality, but just wool. Must be eyestrain from poring through phone records and credit card statements all morning.

His hand tightened around the change in his pocket. Something bit into his palm. The flash of pain surprised a yelp out of Mike. He withdrew his hand from his pocket and stared down at what he was holding. Two quarters. Three dimes. A dozen pennies. Lint. And … a small, sharp-pointed screw that looked as if it had been made a hundred years ago or more. Oh, right. He’d picked that up off the ground near the rack where he’d locked up his bike this morning, thinking that it looked interesting, and that he didn’t want himself or another rider to get a flat tire from it.

A bead of blood welled from his palm. He plucked up the screw with his other hand, dropped the coins into his coat pocket, and sucked the blood from his hand. No big deal. The man in front of him had turned to stare again, not at Mike’s face, not at his injured hand, but at the screw that was pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He appeared both riveted on the screw as well as inexplicably offended. Not concerned, not for Mike anyway, although why should he be? It was nothing. A superficial scratch that had barely bled.

“What?” demanded Mike, perhaps a bit more aggressively than the situation warranted. It flashed through his mind to grin cheekily and ask the man, _do you wanna screw?_ As pickup lines went, it was appallingly juvenile, but some guys went for that kind of dumb humor. The man’s severe expression, however, did not invite banter.

“Put that away,” enunciated tall dark and irate with undisguised distaste.

Mike considered the screw in his hand. He held it out toward the man, who took a hasty step backwards and hissed at him, “Keep your filthy iron away from me.”

“Iron?” Mike looked between the man and the screw. “Are you high? Steel maybe, not iron.” Although, as his freakish brain sorted with lightning speed through 25 years of accumulated random facts, he recalled that steel was an alloy which contained a certain percentage of iron. Maybe if this particular screw was as old as it looked it was made entirely of iron. This still did not explain the guy’s weird reaction.

Weird guy waved one elegant hand through the air, sketching out patterns that meant zilch to Mike. Then, as if the screw had suddenly transformed into a greased ball bearing, it squirted out of Mike’s fingers, flew several yards, and disappeared underneath the hurrying feet of office workers jostling down the sidewalk in their race to feed themselves and get back to their desks. Mike stared in disbelief for a few seconds, tracking its path until he could no longer see it. He’d felt a tingle in his hand just before the screw launched itself. Ripples of cold still seemed to flow through his veins.

“What the fuck?” he asked rhetorically, shaking his head and turning his gaze back to Weird Guy, except – there was nobody there. The gap in the line quickly disappeared as other people shifted to close it. A faint, iridescent rainbow, like sunlight on oil, shimmered for half a second in the place where the man had been, and then vanished. “Whoa.” Mike blinked and blinked, telling himself he was just overtired from too many all-nighters. He’d seen what he’d seen, though. Hadn’t he?

An inconsequential oddity, he decided, or some hunger-induced hallucination. He didn’t have time to worry about a tiny glitch in the Matrix. He needed to worry about getting Travis’ lunch order up to the forty-fourth floor and continuing to wrestle the mountain of discovery documents into submission.

Thunder rumbled in the sky. The people in line grumbled and let out a few pro forma curses as rain dribbled down. No one gave up their place, though. Phil’s hotdogs were worth a minor soaking.

******

“You revealed yourself to him,” growled King Oberon. “You, of all the Fae, know the law. You know the penalty.”

Harvey schooled his expression to one of deference and respect, concealing both his irritation and his unease at what the king might mete out as punishment. Angering Oberon invariably resulted in unpleasantness. It hadn’t even been Harvey’s fault. Not really. It was that human with his damn cold iron. Even more infuriating, it had been such an insignificant amount, and would not have affected him in the normal course of things, but he’d been overtired from his weeks of surveillance in the human realm.

His indiscretion had lasted only an instant, and was certainly inadvertent, but it had happened, nonetheless. Harvey had been honor bound to report his slip to Oberon, and now both he and the human would pay the price. Even the fact that he had been performing the surveillance on Oberon’s orders would not mitigate his offense.

To add to his disgrace, a full audience of courtiers attended Oberon this day. The king was holding court, seated on his throne of intertwined oak branches blanketed with bluebells, yellow toadflax, Queen Anne’s lace, wild purple geraniums and sweet forget-me-nots. He wore his crown of stag antlers adorned with oak leaves and rosebuds, and was clothed in green raiment that gave him the look of a lush, mossy log – an imposing, well- formed log, to be sure, and one that was thunderously angry one at the moment, although he hid it beneath a veneer of ennui.

Seated or reclining around the throne in the verdant meadow were the members of the Unseelie Court, most looking on with variations of boredom, amusement, amused boredom, and pure malice. This day would provide the main source of their gossip until something more titillating came along. Harvey had been Oberon’s favorite for many years, but it looked like that was about to change. He had long suspected he retained few true friends at court, and this was all but confirmed now. Only one or two courtiers regarded him with a measure of pity, but that was almost as bad as the malice.

Languidly, Oberon flicked his fingers. A pale green sprite flitted through the air to hand him a crystal goblet filled with his favorite fermented snapdragon dew. He drank deep, eyeing Harvey consideringly. “Tell us, Harvey,” he intoned in his basso profundo, “what does the law of the Fae dictate in this case?”

Harvey controlled his wince. He knew the law. A human who had seen past a glamour to the true identity of one of the Fae was subject, at a minimum, to imprisonment in the Faerie World, held at the whim of King Oberon for whatever purpose he deemed appropriate. Usually, that involved simple servitude to the king, but might also mean the human would be gifted to a courtier, or condemned to some meaningless and painful task which would last until death. On the rare occasion, if the human intrigued Oberon especially, he might take him to his own bed for a night. If the human survived that ordeal, and he pleased the king, he might regain his freedom after being administered a forgetting tonic.

As for Harvey himself, he would likely be banished to the human world for a length of time dependent on the depths of Oberon’s anger. Ilslavia had been sent away when the humans’ Manhattan was still a green blanket of trees and swamps, and Oberon to this day flew into a rage if any of his subjects dared mention the wood nymph’s name.

“Harvey?” The air crackled with Oberon’s anger.

“I know the law,” said Harvey. “I’ll go fetch the human now.”

“See that you’re quick about it. And Harvey?”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Be discreet. No more mistakes.”

“I’ll be the soul of discretion, as always.”

The courtiers tittered at this. Everyone knew the Fae had no souls.

Oberon snapped his fingers and another sprite appeared, hovering at his shoulder. Leilas was orange-haired with flesh the color of the sky, and held a stoppered vial made from rose quartz. “Take this,” the king said to Harvey, “to dose the human.”

Harvey bridled at the implied insult. Did the king not even trust him to lure the human back here solely through the use of his silvery tongue? Moving stiffly, he stepped forward to take the vial from Leilas, who smirked at him. Harvey would have loved nothing more than to swat them into the nearby brook. He glared at them, making a mental vow to seek retribution on the little pest at the soonest opportunity.

Once Harvey had the vial, Oberon dismissed him and turned his attention to other court matters. Harvey wasted no time in making for the circle of standing stones on the far side of the meadow, where the doorway to the human world lay. He permitted himself a few thoughts for the human who had caused all the trouble. Mike Ross.

He’d captured Harvey’s attention weeks ago, the same day Harvey arrived in New York. Oberon had charged him with the task of performing wide-ranging surveillance on the human world, to keep an eye out for any new threats from that quarter. Instead, Harvey had spent most of his time there following Mike. Being the dark Fae that he was, he couldn’t resist a bit of mischief, and had delighted in the human’s endearing frustration every time he lost one of his stupid possessions, only to discover it later at the precise point he’d “mislaid” it.

The joke had been on Harvey when he’d ultimately been forced to admit his all-consuming obsession with Mike. He had to have him, he decided, but he’d need to be subtle. Accordingly, he began to formulate intricate plans for his seduction. He followed him everywhere, taking pains to conceal himself from view at first, and then using elaborate glamours to disguise his true nature. This continuing drain on his powers had led directly to his blunder in that queue for the vile concoction humans called food. After conjuring the illusion of appropriate human attire, he’d planted himself next to Mike, growing dizzy just from the clean, spicy scent of him.

Then the human produced that cursed scrap of metal. Harvey may have adjusted to the abundance of cold iron in the human world, but to have it so close to him, to see Mike injured by it, to smell his sweet blood … Just a speck of cold iron had been enough to send Harvey into a panic and cause him to act rashly. Recalling the incident shamed him anew.

He inhaled a final lungful of sweet meadow grass before stepping between two standing stones into a disorienting wave of nothingness, only to materialize seconds or centuries later inside a ring of toadstools in the patch of nature-in-captivity the humans had named Central Park. He took a moment to make sure no one was looking in his direction before revealing himself in his carefully chosen camouflage, the constricting suit worn by the most “successful” humans.

From there, he could have magicked himself directly to Mike’s work location, but couldn’t risk another mistake. Instead, he strode down the path, ignoring the admiring glances thrown his way from the humans he passed. The beauty of the Fae always garnered this reaction, and he took it as his due.

On the street in front of the steel tower where Mike worked, Harvey purchased two hot dogs, dosed one with Oberon’s potion, found a shadowy corner and set about to wait. It was a full day since the incident with the cold iron, and Mike would emerge soon in search of his midday sustenance.

******

Mike hesitated outside the building before heading back to Phil’s hot dog cart. He’d put yesterday’s unsettling encounter with the handsome man out of his mind, but it all came rushing back to him now. Maybe he should go somewhere else for lunch.

As he stood on the sidewalk debating, the very same man appeared, as if conjured by his thoughts. He smiled at Mike in a devastating manner, all his disdain and hauteur of the previous day gone, or at least well concealed. As he approached, Mike saw that he carried two of Phil’s hot dogs, holding one out to Mike as he reached him.

Mike looked at the hot dog, looked at the man. “Stalk much?” he asked.

A brief perplexed frown marred the man’s feature, there and gone in an instant. “To apologize for my appalling rudeness yesterday,” he said. The man’s expression turned rueful. “My mind, I’m afraid, was occupied with, er, work vexations. I reacted poorly.”

_Vexations?_ Who even said things like that? Mike didn’t know whether to laugh or swoon. He did neither, standing as if frozen in place and staring at the man’s beautiful face.

The man’s features tightened briefly, as if annoyed (vexed?) that Mike wasn’t immediately falling for his charms, which was funny, since Mike was totally falling for them.

“Who are you?” Mike managed to croak out.

“Ah. Again, my apologies. I am called Harvey.” He shook the hot dog at Mike, wordlessly urging it on him. “Will you take a meal with me?”

Was this guy for real? Mike relaxed as he took in the melting look in Harvey’s dark eyes, and his self-deprecating smile. Maybe his love life was finally looking up. “Sure,” he said, “why not?”

An excellent question, as it turned out. The answer came an instant after he sank his teeth into the hot dog, chewed and swallowed. The sound of rushing wind filled his head. Harvey’s face wavered in front of him. The sidewalk and the building wavered. The entire world wavered, went misty around the edges, and vanished. A maelstrom enveloped him, a violent kaleidoscope of colors. He had a brief glimpse of damp grass and … mushrooms? His skin tingled. The world blinked out. A vast nothingness surrounded him, and he fell.

******

Harvey grimaced at the sound of Mike dry heaving a few paces away. Despite the spasms, he’d taken the travel from his realm better than most humans Harvey had witnessed. On the other side of the meadow, Oberon and his court had not yet noticed their arrival, but they soon would.

“Stop that,” he snapped at Mike. “Pull yourself together. You’re fine.”

Mike rose unsteadily to his feet, eyes wide and panicked. “What was that? I mean, what the hell was that?” He glanced around them, over Harvey’s shoulder, spotting Oberon and his court in the distance. “Where are we? Did – ” His eyes narrowed as he focused his attention back on Harvey. “Did you drug me?”

Harvey shrugged and waggled one hand back and forth. “What I gave you wasn’t technically a drug.”

“Technically? Wasn’t _technically?_ ”

Mike’s agitation and anger rippled through the space between them, spiking to a crescendo that Harvey could feel in his marrow. When Mike lunged at him, Harvey sighed and sketched a quick immobilization spell. Mike froze mid-lunge.

“We don’t have time for your histrionics,” Harvey said. “Pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you, because it may save your life. You are in grave danger. Do you see those creatures over there? That is Oberon, King of the Fae of the Unseelie Court, and his courtiers. He is the one who ordered me to bring you here to face your punishment. Do you understand?” Taking a step to one side, he waved a hand at Mike to break the spell. “Speak.”

Continuing his momentum, Mike lurched forward and stumbled, nearly going down. After regaining his balance, he whirled to face Harvey and spluttered, “Punishment? Punishment for what?”

“Could we not –” Harvey stopped himself, taking a moment to tamp down his impatience. “You glimpsed my true form and witnessed my use of magic in your human world. Therefore, you must be punished.”

“My – _human_? What the fuck?”

“Calm down, Mike.”

“I will not. Are you saying … are you implying … Where are we? What are you?”

“Did I not already go over this? I’ve brought you to my world, the Faerie Realm, to be sentenced and punished by the king. The sooner you stop gasping like a landed fish and accept that, the sooner I can explain what you must do to save yourself.”

“Save my – _Faerie_? – How can you – _human_?” Mike dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m hallucinating, aren’t I? This is all just … a … a bad trip. Or a dream. A nightmare.”

The inconvenient pity he felt for the human irked Harvey. “Breathe, Mike. You’re not hallucinating, but I’m afraid this trip will likely prove quite bad for you. Now, listen to me. When I bring you before King Oberon –”

Mike’s gaze sharpened on Harvey. “Hey. Hold on. Wait just a damn minute. Assuming this is all true, and I’m not in some kind of drug-induced delirium, you say I’m here because I saw your true form?”

“Correct.” Harvey guessed what was coming next, and steeled himself.

“So, how is that my fault? Sounds like you’re the one that fucked up. Why isn’t this Oberon dude punishing you?”

“My sentence will be handed down once you receive yours.”

“Why should I be sentenced at all?”

“Our laws are not the same as yours. They exist for a reason. In order for our world to continue to thrive, we must remain hidden from you humans. We have what you would call a ‘zero tolerance’ policy on detection.”

“But … but the, er, infraction occurred in my world, so the laws of that jurisdiction should apply.”

Harvey bit back a chuckle. Such an earnest little lawyer-human. “I’m afraid that’s not how it works.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It is the law. Fairness does not come into play. It’s about our survival.”

Mike pressed his lips together and tightened his jaw. He’d regained some control of his emotions and, more surprisingly, seemed to have accepted the situation, at least on the surface. “Tell me, then, how do I get out of this?”

“You don’t.”

“Fantastic.”

“Once you’re brought before King Oberon, events will proceed in one of three possible ways. Most likely, he will pronounce your eternal servitude to the Realm.”

“Wait. Servitude? Eternal? I don’t know which word freaks me out the most.”

“Servitude as in menial labor. Well, menial if he’s in a benevolent mood.”

“Such as?”

“Cleaning. Mending. Forest maintenance. Dew harvest detail. Potions assistant. The possibilities are as endless as your days and nights here will be.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic. And what’s behind door number two?”

Harvey furrowed his brow. “Door? Do you see any doors here?”

“No, it’s a figure of –” Mike let out an angry-sounding huff. “What’s the second possibility?”

“Oberon may gift you to one of his favorites.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning an eternity of tasks equivalent to what I’ve already described, or something of a more intimate nature, or both.”

“Intimate. I see. You’re talking about sex. So, door number two means I get fairy-raped for an eternity?”

“What door are you talking about?” Harvey didn’t bother to conceal his rising irritation. The sprite Leilas had just flitted past their location and was heading back to tattle on him to the king. They needed to hurry this up. “Never mind. Yes, that might be one especially harsh outcome, but it all depends on who you’re given to. Which brings me to the third possibility.”

“Door number three,” said Mike with a malicious glint in his eyes.

Harvey’s patience had worn thin. He stepped right up to Mike and growled, “Say ‘door’ one more time. I dare you. If you do, I’ll gag you right now and leave you to your fate.” He could tell by the mutinous look on Mike’s face that he was considering it, but he finally gave a curt nod and remained silent. “Good. That sort of docility will serve you well during your time in this realm.” He held up one hand when Mike opened his mouth as if to object. “Especially if the third outcome occurs, in which Oberon elects to take you to his bed.”

A “welcoming” party of courtiers, sprites and wood nymphs had broken away from Oberon and begun moving towards them, presumably intent on escorting them back to the king.

Harvey clicked his tongue. “We’re nearly out of time. Listen well. Never speak your true name to the Fae. Do not accept food or drink from their hand.”

“I wish I’d known all that before I ran into you.”

“Hush. Avoid eye contact. If possible, obey all orders given. Finally, if Oberon takes you to his bed, remain biddable. You need only endure one night with him. If you survive –”

“Wait, what?”

“If you survive, you’ll be returned to your world and suffer no further penalty. In that eventuality, you’ll receive a tonic which will erase all memory of this realm and everything that transpires here.”

Mike had spotted the group approaching them. He bit his lip, seeming to consider everything Harvey had told him. “I could run,” he said with a distinct lack of hope.

“You must know that’s impossible.”

“My grandmother warned me about men like you.”

“You should have listened to her.”

“Will your sentence be the same as mine?”

“No,” Harvey scoffed. “I’m of royal blood. I’ll be banished for a time, but will be allowed home eventually, or so I must believe.”

“Lucky you,” Mike said sarcastically. “This seems like a great place.”

Oberon’s entourage had reached them by now. Arin and Kheelan stepped forward, with Leilas and the pale green sprite flitting excitedly around their heads. Mike took a step back, but no hope for escape existed. His fate had been sealed the moment Harvey revealed his true nature to him.

Harvey had no option but to stand back and watch as the two Warrior Fae yanked Mike’s arms behind his back, bound his wrists with silk and marched him away toward Oberon’s throne. When the green sprite shot Harvey a sympathetic look he managed to keep his sardonic smile firmly in place, giving nothing away of his guilt and regret. He’d done what he could to help Mike, but he feared it wouldn’t be enough. Without going directly against his king, Harvey could only stand by in silent witness of what happened next, and then accept whatever punishment he received himself.

******

None of this was real, Mike told himself as fairies (and elves? nymphs?) half-dragged him across a damp field and forced him to his knees at the foot of the oddest-looking throne outside of Westeros. The man (fairy?) lounging on the throne was taller even than Harvey, barrel-chested, hairy, and a bizarre blend of arrogant, feral and charming. This must be King Oberon. His crown looked like antlers threaded through with green leaves and delicate yellow rosebuds.

“Harvey,” said Oberon, looking behind Mike, “your taste in humans is impeccable, as always. Don’t mistake that for praise. I’ve long suspected your weakness for these creatures would prove your undoing.” He sighed. “And here we are.” His gaze turned back to Mike. “Name yourself.”

Mike’s mouth opened, and then shut as he remembered Harvey’s warning.

Oberon shifted, leaning forward with a scowl on his face. “Do not try my patience, human. I hold your fate in my hands. Give me your name.”

Shit. What now? “Louis Litt,” he blurted, heart thudding in his chest.

Settling back, Oberon narrowed his eyes. “Luwhislet. An odd name for a human.”

Mike hardly dared to breathe as he waited to be called out on his lie. He caught sight of Harvey, who had moved forward to stand a few feet away from him.

Oberon shrugged. “But then, you’re an odd species. Do you know why you’ve been brought here, Luwhislet?”

Feigning bravado, Mike smirked at him. “Loose lips sink ships?”

Oberon shot a confused look at Harvey. “Will you translate?”

“It means – ”

“Snitches get stitches,” Mike interrupted, enjoying Oberon’s confusion. “I saw something I shouldn’t have, and now I’ve been kidnapped and held against my will so I can’t spill the beans on your special, magical fairy world.”

His expression amused, Oberon asked, “Do you believe your defiance will serve you well, Luwhislet?”

He had a point. Mike wasn’t exactly working from a position of strength here. Harvey had recommended docility. Maybe he had a point as well. Mike bowed his head and sat back on his heels. “My apologies, your Highness. This has all been quite a shock to my system.”

“Hm. Indeed.”

Mike could almost feel Oberon’s gaze assessing him, giving every inch of him a slow, penetrating perusal. He shivered, noticing for the first time the chill seeping into his knees from the damp grass, and the dark clouds that gathered overhead.

“I am ready to announce your sentence,” said Oberon.

Mike’s head jerked up. “What? Don’t I get a trial?”

Harvey gave his head a quick shake and was still.

Oberon’s chuckle was as warm and friendly as a frigid stream crashing against jagged boulders. “It’s a trial you want?” A beat of silence. “Granted.”

Was that a groan from Harvey?

“Your trial,” said Oberon, “is one night in my bed. If you last the night, and if I am well pleased, you will be returned to your world, with no memory of your time here. Do you accept?”

Even though Harvey had warned Mike of this possibility, it took him a moment to absorb what Oberon had said. His voice broke as he asked, “I have a choice?”

“No.”

He fought down panic and tried to marshal a defense, even though this wasn’t an actual trial as he defined it. “Can I ask a question?”

“Granted.”

“If you guys have a spell or potion that can wipe out my memories, why not just do that? Why all of …” He waved his hand around the meadow. “Why all the drama?”

“Clever human. Because our laws are ancient, immutable, and must be obeyed.”

“Oh. That explains it.”

Annoyance flickered in Oberon’s moss-green eyes. Clearly, he was not a man (fairy) used to being questioned or mocked. “Arin. Kheelan. Take the human away and prepare him for tonight.”

Mike’s struggles as they lifted him to his feet were perfunctory and brief. One of the two brutes clipped him on the jaw. Mike tried to bite the other one. Something heavy struck the back of his head. He glimpsed a blurry, frowning Harvey before passing out.

******

“And now, Harvey, what are we to do with you?”

Thunder rumbled over the forest. In the near distance, rain began to fall, but the meadow remained dry.

“Whatever pleases your Majesty.” Harvey spoke through clenched teeth, not bothering to conceal his ire.

“Ah, now, don’t be that way. Is this one human so special to you?”

“Certainly not,” he lied. “It just seems to me that your harsh sentence on him has far more to do with punishing me than is fair.”

Oberon regarded him for long seconds. Without breaking eye contact, he spoke to his courtiers and all the creatures that attended him in the meadow. “Leave us.”

After a rustling rush of feet and wings and hooves, they were alone. Oberon rose and stepped down from his throne. He stood a handsbreadth taller than Harvey and used that height difference to his advantage. “There once was a time I could trust you,” he said.

Harvey stared past Oberon’s shoulder, letting the implied accusation seep into his bones. He shivered. “You can still trust me. Always. Surely you must know that.”

“Must I?”

The king’s disappointment burned like cold iron in the air between them.

Shoulders sagging, Harvey braced for the worst. “How long will I be gone?” he asked. “How many years? Centuries?”

Something flashed across Oberon’s face, a shadow of anticipated pain or loss. “You know I don’t want that.” He cupped Harvey’s face with one warm, callused hand. “I can’t visit you in the humans’ realm, and I’d miss you too much.” His large thumb caressed Harvey’s jaw. “And yet you must be punished.”

Bending his head, he captured Harvey’s mouth with his own, tongue flicking against Harvey’s lips. Echoes of a time long past trembled between them but there would be no rekindling of old fires. Each of them recognized this. Harvey felt Oberon’s mouth curve into a smile just before he raised his head and gazed ruefully down at Harvey.

“What times we had,” Oberon murmured. “You. Me. A comely human or two to share between us. Ah, well. Ancient history.”

“Indeed.”

Oberon backed away and seated himself on his throne, the austere king once more. “I’m prepared to pass sentence on you. Kneel.”

Harvey froze. “Oberon?”

“You forget yourself.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty, but have you forgotten that I, too, am of royal blood?”

“I hold your fate in my hands. Perhaps this is not the time to put your arrogance on such flagrant display.”

Clamping his lips shut against his sharp retort, Harvey sank gracefully to one knee. This was the limit of his concession.

Oberon let it pass. “I assigned you a clear task in the humans’ realm. Surveil and report back. You’ve been away for weeks and I’ve heard not a word from you. If I were not prevented by my role as king, I might have journeyed there myself to check on you. Instead, I was forced to send a second spy, and the reports they brought back were concerning.”

“You were spying on me? On _me_?”

“And a good thing, too.”

“Who? Who was it?”

“Does it matter? They told me how you had abandoned your mission to go trailing after one particular human. They described you as obsessed. Besotted. Almost human in your slide toward sentimentality.”

“That is a base lie.”

“Is it?”

“A gross misrepresentation at best.”

Oberon gazed down at him, remote and serene. “I’d like to believe that. Your recent behavior, however …”

“I don’t care about that human. I only followed him because he seemed more observant than the rest, more inclined to notice things he shouldn’t. He was merely a … a …” Harvey struggled for a moment to remember the term he’d heard the humans use. “He was a case study.”

Oberon arched one bushy eyebrow. “You harbor no tender feelings for him?”

“None.”

“You do understand that I’ll require proof, yes?”

“Yes,” said Harvey, even as he worried what this might entail.

A cold smile curved Oberon’s generous mouth. “You’ll attend me while I pass this night with Luwhislet. You’ll say nothing, make no objection, will not intervene in any manner. Do you accept?”

“I accept, my king.” What else could he say? The words seemed to stick in his mouth, which had gone quite dry. It flashed through his mind to simply flee now back to the human realm, never to return and face Oberon’s punishment. He’d be spared the ordeal of watching Oberon break what Harvey had come to think of as _his_ plaything. Never being able to return home, though … That seemed a price too great to bear. Even if banishment was his fate, he’d be allowed back eventually. If he ran? There was no coming back from that.

******

Mike groaned and opened his eyes. His face hurt and his head pounded. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he found himself in what appeared to be a cave. A dozen flickering candles lit the scene, sending grotesque shadows in every direction. Moisture dripped down walls of rough granite. The ceiling was comprised of a network of interlaced roots. He was lying on a plush mattress which could have been filled with goose down mixed with clouds. His wrists were bound behind his back.

Still bound, he realized as memory flooded back. Bound with something like silk that was as comfortable as it was strong. His ankles were bound now as well, and he was naked underneath the soft comforter that covered him to the shoulders.

He’d thought he was alone in the chamber, but gradually became aware of something small and colorful fluttering right at the periphery of his vision. He turned his head for a better look. Nothing was there. He winced as the movement woke pain in his jaw.

Oh, right. Some fairy-elf thing had slugged him just before he lost consciousness. Now, the king, Oberon – Oberon! Like in that play. What kind of inside information had Shakespeare possessed? Not important. He’d dwell on that later, because now, Oberon evidently wanted to enact some fairy-on-human sexual predations upon Mike’s body.

“Luwhislet,” he reminded himself. He had to think of himself with that name, because bad as things were now, Harvey had hinted that they could be so much worse if Oberon learned Mike’s true name. He didn’t want to think about Harvey and the way he’d deceived Mike. The utter unfairness of the situation caused Mike’s throat to close with anger and grief and fear – mostly fear, he admitted to himself.

Why, why, why had he chosen Louis’s name as an alias? Would he have to endure a night of hearing Oberon cry out Louis’s name in the heat of passion? As if things weren’t bad enough already. And what was sex with a fairy like, anyway? Did they have all the same parts? Was their tab A the same as a human’s? Or would Mike’s slot B be unexpectedly invaded by a tail, or horn, or … _fuck._ This speculation was not calming him down. At all.

He chose to focus instead on Harvey’s advice. In order to be allowed to return home, two things were required of him: he had to please Oberon, and he had to survive the night. What might please a fairy king? If he only knew, he’d do it (probably). How bad could it be? And what were his odds of survival? That seemed the important question, because more than anything, he wanted to survive. If that meant submitting to Oberon, he’d submit. One night of whatever sort of unpleasantness Harvey had been hinting at would be followed by a complete memory wipe of the entire experience. He could live with that.

Something moved again in the air above him. He squinted, trying to make out what it was, and then attempted to throw up a hand in defense as it divebombed him. By the time he recalled that his hands were tied behind him, the thing had regained some altitude, hovering and fluttering a pair of shimmering wings. He might have placed it somewhere in the Tinkerbell genus, except for the clown-orange hair and blue flesh. Instead of a fetching, leafy, off-the-shoulder mini-dress, it wore an ankle length pearlescent tunic that clung to its slim figure. The face was small and too far away to make out clearly, but he was receiving a strong impression of malicious glee.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I’m keeping an eye on you for Oberon,” they piped.

“What are you? Some kind of sentient mosquito?”

A high-pitched squeal-growl from the creature. “Don’t fuck with me, Mike Ross, or I’ll tell Oberon your true name.”

_Well, shit_. That wasn’t good. He frowned. “Hey. How do you know my name? Did Harvey tell you?” The thought of that betrayal added another layer of hurt to what he was already feeling.

“No,” squeaked the creature. “I was there. Oberon picked me. I was in your world and I watched and listened. I saw every second of it, every moment that Harvey fell more and more under your spell. You! A human.” Their wings sped up and they darted around the room in a crazy series of zigzags, as if discharging a sudden buildup of restless energy or anger, and then came to an abrupt stop, hovering inches from Mike’s face. “Harvey has always been a rebel. Many of us thought he would be the next king, after Queen Mab departed the realm for good. He and Oberon were close, you know. Lovers, hunting companions, two of the biggest troublemakers we’ve ever known.”

“Harvey as king?” Mike could see that, he decided. “What happened? Why Oberon and not Harvey?”

“Ah, well. The usual thing. A lover’s spat. A rift that became a chasm. Betrayal. Lust for power. It was all quite human, if you ask me, but no one ever does. Anyway, the Fae chose Oberon in the end, and that was that.”

Mike mulled over what the creature had told him. “What’s your name?” he asked finally.

“My true name is none of your business, but you can call me Leilas.”

“Okay. Leilas. Can you tell me what I might expect tonight?”

Leilas zipped around the chamber once more, speed and chaos in motion. “You have been greatly honored by the king.” They cackled, sounding like a fiend on helium. “Too bad for you. Been nice knowing you. Oh, wait. It hasn’t been nice at all.”

“What did I ever do to you?”

“Existed.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Humans,” they sneered. “If you could, you’d all come galumphing through the standing stones and shit all over our realm. You’d rip up all the trees and flowers and hunt the Fae for sport. You’d murder sprites like me, or stick us in a cage for your amusement. I won’t spare a drop of sympathy for your sort, so don’t even bother batting those pretty blue eyes at me.” Leilas swooped like a striking hawk and bit Mike’s earlobe with teeth so sharp he yelped, then darted away.

Seconds later, warm blood slid down Mike’s neck. “What was that for?”

“Just because you and your kind make me so angry.”

“Leilas,” said a familiar voice from the shadows on the far side of the room, “Oberon does not wish him harmed.” Harvey strode forward into the candlelight. “Not by you, at any rate. Keep your filthy rodent teeth to yourself.”

“Oh, boo hoo, Harvey not-king,” said Leilas. “Harvey-never-king. You can’t tell me what to do. I’m Oberon’s favorite now, not you. Do not insult me like that again or I’ll –”

Leilas went corkscrewing across the room as Harvey smacked them with the back of his hand. “I’m telling!” they shrieked. “I’m telling the king!”

“Get out,” Harvey ordered.

Defiantly, Leilas flew straight at Harvey’s face before veering off at the last instant. They repeated this several more times before shooting away into the shadows and presumably out a doorway that Mike couldn’t see from where he was situated.

“Sprites,” said Harvey, voice dripping with scorn. “I should bring bug spray back with me next time I visit your world.”

Mike fell silent, trying to summon a glare as he internally reviewed all of his grievances against Harvey. “What the hell do you want?” he asked.

“Nothing I’m likely to get anytime soon. I’m here on the king’s orders.”

“Haven’t you done enough?”

“I’m quite certain I have. Oberon has pronounced the first part of my sentence.”

“Which is what?”

“Which is being compelled to observe the, er, festivities of this night.”

“That’s your punishment? You don’t like to watch?”

Harvey seemed to deflate. “I’m glad you can find the humor in all this.”

“That’s not humor. That’s abject terror, denial, and rising hysteria.”

Harvey sighed. “Try to get some sleep. Once Oberon gets here, whatever happens, you’ll be occupied until morning.”

Mike was too wound up to sleep, but he closed his eyes. He couldn’t stand to look at Harvey any longer, mostly because it hurt to imagine what might have transpired between them in a different, saner universe.

“And, Mi—er, Luwhislet? Do not antagonize the king. Things may seem dire now, but they can always get worse.”

Mike couldn’t see how, but he didn’t bother to reply.

******

Oberon didn’t keep them waiting for long. Harvey felt a buzz along his nerve endings as the king stepped through the fairy ring outside the cave. As soon as he strode through the entrance, he removed his crown and set it on a flat rock near the wall.

Harvey dropped briefly to one knee, figuring a touch of obeisance couldn’t hurt, and might help the king’s disposition. “Your Majesty, as you can see, the human is prepared for you to bestow your honor upon him.”

“Honor?” said Mike, sounding affronted.

Harvey gave him a quelling look and the human wisely shut up.

Glancing between Harvey and Mike with narrowed eyes, Oberon strode to the bed and then stood for a moment just taking in the sight of Mike. He grabbed the coverlet and slowly dragged it down Mike’s body until he lay naked and exposed before his lustful gaze. Mike rolled to his belly to cover as much of himself as possible and Oberon chuckled. “You look even better from this angle.”

Harvey glanced at the exit and then scowled at Oberon’s back. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, ignoring the swirling mix of nausea and jealousy in his belly.

Oberon turned to face him. “No. You will stay.”

“My king …”

“Stand there.” Oberon pointed to a spot a few paces from the head of the bed, near one of the waist-high candleholders. “That will provide you an excellent view of Luwhislet’s expressions of ecstasy. You’ll hear every delicious sigh and groan and scream.”

Harvey suspected it would be mostly screaming. Moving to the designated spot, he met Mike’s panicked gaze, trying to signal to him with his eyes that he should remain calm and it would be over soon. Except to Mike it would seem like an eternity.

Oberon unlaced his tunic and tossed it to the ground. His trousers followed, leaving him gloriously naked. It was an impressive sight, as Harvey well remembered. Mike’s eyes widened as he took in the king’s huge cock, already jutting like an angry oak branch. Oberon sat on the bed and captured one of Mike’s ankles with his hand. “Are you a virgin, Luwhislet?” he asked, not unkindly.

Mike’s brows furrowed. One corner of his mouth quirked up as if the question amused him. “Um, no.”

“A shame, but do you know I’ve yet to find one human that is?”

“I’m sure you just haven’t been looking in the right places.”

Reaching underneath the bed, Oberon withdrew a large bone knife. Panic returned to Mike’s eyes, but Oberon only used the knife to swiftly cut through his bonds at wrists and ankles. Typical Oberon tactic, Harvey thought cynically. Start with a mild fright, give the human a glimmer of hope to make him believe Oberon was fair and just and maybe even benevolent, and then …

Oberon raised the knife, displaying it to Mike. “Do you see this? Would you care to guess what it’s made of?”

“Not really.”

“I carved it from the thigh bone of the last human who failed to please me in bed.”

Harvey rolled his eyes. Oberon was lying. The bone was carved from a stag that had been sacrificed to Beira at the winter feasting three hundred years ago. The lie was effective. Mike cringed and scooter halfway across the bed.

“Be still,” Oberon ordered, grabbing Mike’s arm and dragging him back. “I only want to play a bit. This won’t hurt. Much.”

“What won’t – _aagh_.”

The point of the knife sliced Mike’s chest, and scored a shallow spiral into his pectoral, circling round and round one nipple. Bright red blood oozed from the wound. Oberon lowered his head and lapped it up. He straddled Mike’s thighs and grinned down at him, a smear of blood on his chin.

A low growl escaped Harvey. He pressed his lips together and turned to face the wall.

“Keep watching, Harvey,” Oberon murmured, “or the next thing this knife will pierce is the human’s heart.”

Mike’s whimper caused Harvey to wince in sympathy. He forced himself to turn back to the bed and resume watching.

Languidly, Oberon etched a series of symbols on Mike’s shoulder, over his ribs, on his hip, tasting each spot where the knife tip touched. He drew blood, but in amounts that wouldn’t weaken Mike. The cuts were shallow enough that there might not even be any scarring. Mike writhed and moaned, resisting Oberon with growing agitation, until the king snarled with impatience and lashed Mike’s wrists together over his head.

Raising his gaze to Harvey, Oberon smiled. His lips were stained red with Mike’s blood. “Your human seems ungrateful for my attentions.”

“His is not ‘my’ human.”

“Is he mine, then?”

“Jesus,” gasped Mike, “I belong to no one but myself, you sadistic fuck.”

The knife rested against Mike’s jugular. “Do not invoke your sky god in my presence.” A tiny bead of blood welled against the knife tip. “Apologize.”

Mike sucked in a wheezing breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He struggled with his bonds but could not break free. “Look, man, it doesn’t have to be this way. I’m here. You got me. You’re obviously …” His gaze darted down to where Oberon’s massive cock pressed against his thigh. “You seem, uh, ready to go. If you put down the knife, I promise I won’t fight you. I mean, I am sort of hoping you have some kind of magical lube nearby because, while in general I do like a big guy, you are fucking enormous. Kudos for that. Not gonna lie. I’m actually a little intrigued. I’d be rock hard myself right now, but I’m also terrified and the slicing and dicing is killing the mood for me.”

Mike might be saying all the right things, or trying to, but his voice shook and his body trembled as if the Snow Queen herself had entered the room and placed her hand upon his skin. Harvey hated this. He longed to plunge a knife into Oberon’s broad back, to see him bleed instead of Mike. These thoughts shocked him. This was his king. He’d sworn fealty to him. He may have had to force the words of the oath past stiff lips even as his own ambitions for the throne lay in ruins around him, but he’d meant every word. He was no oath breaker.

Mike’s words seemed to have the desired effect on Oberon. He set the knife on the floor and sat back on his heels, looming over Mike, and ran his palm over the cuts he’d made in Mike’s skin. The air shimmered and sparked above Mike. He gasped and arched up, mouth falling open in surprise as his wounds vanished. Harvey had experienced the sweetness of Oberon’s healing spell a few times, and the shock of pleasure it brought. Panting, muscles loose and unresisting, Mike sank into the mattress and gazed up at Oberon in wonder.

“Do you see?” asked the king. “I can hurt you, make you scream, or I can …” He traced a finger down Mike’s belly to his cock, his touch featherlight. “Or I can make you _howl._ ” A pause. “Well? Which is it to be?”

Harvey knew that the answer mattered little to Oberon. He enjoyed both paths of carnality in equal measure. The human’s pleasure or suffering was inconsequential.

Mike’s chest heaved, with fear, or excitement, or perhaps a mixture of the two. “I … I choose not hurting.”

Oberon’s answering smile was warm and slightly mocking. “Remain biddable and I may grant you your wish.” He snapped his fingers and Leilas rocketed into the room, carrying a flask of fragrant oil and handing it to the king. Tipping the flask, Oberon coated his fingers with oil. As he leaned over Mike, grazing his neck with his teeth, his position hid his oiled hand from Harvey’s view. He could guess what was happening because Mike let out a gasp and arched his neck, exposing his tendons to the king’s nipping bites. His legs fell apart and his hips undulated, seemingly in reaction Oberon’s questing fingers. Was he enjoying this?

Mike’s eyes met Harvey’s. He looked desperate and wrecked, and not in a good way. In a moment, he would chew through his lower lip, or so it appeared to Harvey. Gods, this was torture, and not only for Mike. Oberon straightened, sitting back on his heels once more. Now Harvey had a clear view. Three blunt fingers jammed into Mike, again, again, again. Tears leaked from the corners of Mike’s eyes. His drawn out mewl of distress pierced Harvey’s callous façade and stoked his jealousy and anger.

Using his free hand, Oberon pinched Mike’s nipple hard. The king was strong, and he didn’t hold back. Mike let out a low moan and began moving into Oberon’s thrusting fingers, jerking his hips spasmodically as more and more hopeless tears slid down his checks.

“Do you see, Harvey?” asked the king, staring at Harvey. “The human loves it. They always do. Until they don’t. Lovely, stupid little whores, all of them.” He licked Mike’s neck. “And this one is so very sweet. Just delicious.” He withdrew his fingers and began stroking himself. “If there’s anything left when I’m finished, you may take your turn. It will be just like old times.”

He flipped Mike onto his belly and yanked up his hips.

“Oh, God,” Mike croaked. “No. Please don’t.”

Harvey’s resolve disintegrated. Oaths be damned, he had to stop this, but how?

Leilas still flitted excitedly around the room, clearly delighted by the proceedings, casting extravagant shadows as they passed between the candles. This gave Harvey an idea. He insinuated himself closer to the candleholder nearest to him. Oberon glanced his way, his wolfish grin indicating he believed Harvey had moved closer for a better view. He gave Mike several savage slaps on his bottom. Mike was sobbing now, without restraint.

With his back to the candle, blocking it from view, Harvey reached behind himself and lifted it from the holder. He kept an eye on Leilas as they careened crazily around the bed. This would all come down to timing. When he judged that their next pass would take them directly in front of him, he whipped his arm forward and shoved the candle at them, singeing their wing.

Leilas shrieked. They hit the wall and shrieked again, dropping to the stone floor. Despite their diminutive size, the sound burst forth like a keening siren. Harvey recognized this as the battle cry of a sprite, an instinctual response that was part distress, part warning, and part summons. Their best defense lay in numbers.

As he’d hoped, another sprite zipped through the entrance, and then another and another, until within moments the air was thick with them. Oberon hopped to his feet, bellowing at Leilas. He hadn’t observed Harvey’s surreptitious attack which had caused Leilas to summon the shrieking, flitting, murderous mob. To the king, it appeared as if his pet minion had gone unaccountably berserk.

“Silence!” he roared. “Be still.” The pale green sprite rushed him, pricking him with a sword the size of a pin. “Damn you, mosquito.” This unforgivable slur enraged every sprite in the cave and they swarmed him all at once, dodging his swatting hands and continuing to shriek like tiny banshees. In an instant, blood dotted Oberon’s face and arms. One of the braver creatures zeroed in on the king’s cock, sticking it with its sword. Oberon’s resulting shriek was nearly as piercing as the sprites’.

This was all the diversion Harvey required – and then some. Snatching up Oberon’s bone knife, he cut Mike’s bonds, hoisted him over his shoulder, grabbed the coverlet as an afterthought, and sprinted for the exit. He was nearly outside before Oberon realized what was happening.

“After them!” he screamed at the rioting sprites. “They’re getting away.”

Behind him, Harvey heard Leilas’ shrill voice soar above the rest. “It was him, you featherbrains. I told you. I told you! It was Harvey burnt me, not King Oberon.”

They would be after him in a flash, Harvey knew, with Oberon close behind. They wouldn’t be fast enough. Harvey had nearly reached the fairy ring outside the cave. He vaulted the last few paces, landing in the middle of the ring, and surrendered to the pull, laying down spells on the fly to temporarily block anyone from following them. The spells might hold for a minute or two.

This ring delivered them to the standing stones in the king’s meadow. Not giving himself time to think, Harvey rapidly constructed a spell that would destroy the ring forever once he and Mike went through. He hardened his heart against the horror of acknowledging that once they went through, there would be no coming back, and likely no return to the Faerie Realm. He’d made his choice, and would have to live with it.

As they plunged into nothingness, he heard the boom of ancient standing stones crumbling to the ground, and inhaled the whiff of scorched grass. The air around him cracked and crackled like a sheet of ice breaking up,

They materialized inside the ring of toadstools in Central Park. Harvey staggered and nearly fell. He lowered Mike to the grass outside the ring, tossing the blanket over his nakedness. It was deep night in New York, which offered him cover for what he had to do next. A few humans were about, but they were accustomed to odd goings on in their city and scarcely glanced in their direction. Harvey blocked everything out but the task before him.

Moving widdershins, he turned in a slow circle, sketching intricate symbols above the toadstools that formed the ring. One by one, they wilted, died, blackened and vanished. Bracing for another expenditure of energy, he sucked in a breath, turned his palms downwards and willed away the last vestiges of magic within the ring. He counted fifty thudding heartbeats as he burned away the spell, breathing slowly in and out, ignoring the spike of pain in his skull, not letting up until the ring was as dead and silent and devoid of magic as the city’s buildings that rose to the clouds.

Once the spell of undoing was complete, he collapsed to the ground next to Mike, and rolled onto his back. Mike’s worried face came into view as he peered down at Harvey. He had the blanket wrapped around himself like a cocoon.

“What was that?” Mike asked. “What did you do?”

How to answer him?

It was the end of everything, Harvey wanted to say. Eternal exile. A door slamming shut. 

As he blinked up at Mike, observing the cautious relief in haunted blue eyes, he dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, it was also a door being opened.

Harvey was nearly beyond speech just now, depleted and in need of rest. “Will you take me home?” he rasped.

After the slightest of hesitations, Mike nodded. “Sure.” He glanced down at himself. “Slight problem. I don’t suppose you packed an extra pair of pants?”


	2. Chapter 2

The thing Mike wished for the most was to forget about everything that had happened since the moment Harvey handed him the drugged hot dog. He wanted to pretend that he hadn’t traveled through a fairy ring to another world, that he hadn’t met the fairy king, that he hadn’t lain bound and helpless as Oberon sliced into him with a knife, lapped up his blood, finger-fucked him and made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. That he hadn’t been a hairsbreadth way from –

_No, don’t think about that._

Even with his flawless memory, he might have still convinced himself it was all a dream, or a particularly vivid hallucination. The one thing impeding him from this goal was the presence of Harvey. He represented irrefutable proof that fairies existed and that what Mike had gone through was real.

What could Mike do, though? He couldn’t exactly cut Harvey loose. The guy had possibly just saved his life and, it seemed, had nearly killed himself in the process. Not to mention, he had clearly prevented the situation with Oberon from going from bad to worse, although what had happened was bad enough, and Mike could still feel Oberon’s touch and see the lust in his eyes and smell his own blood and – he ordered himself to stop thinking about it, to forget all about it.

There would be no forgetting for him, however. Too bad that promised forgetting tonic had never materialized, but maybe he could get Harvey to whip one up for him once he was feeling stronger.

Resigning himself to Harvey’s continuing presence for now, Mike helped him up they limped together the several blocks to Mike’s office, where he cajoled the security guard, who knew him, to let him in the building despite their odd attire. He kept several changes of clothes in one of the file rooms near his desk. Thankfully, none of the other associates in the bullpen were working late this night and the janitor was long gone.

After he’d dressed himself, he helped a groggy and weak Harvey change out of his leafy ensemble and into one of his suits. He certainly wore it well, even if it didn’t fit quite right, not like the one Mike had seen him in earlier, which apparently had been only an illusion.

“What happened to your fake clothes?” Mike asked.

“I used up all my magic destroying the fairy ring.” He sank into Mike’s chair and closed his eyes.

“Used it up? Will it come back?”

“I don’t know,” Harvey whispered.

“Too bad you can’t magic us up an Uber.”

Harvey opened his eyes. “A what?”

“Never mind. I keep some spare cash here. We can grab a cab. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to worry about replacing my phone, ID, bank card …” He trailed off, all at once every bit as weary as Harvey looked. “Whatever. At least I’m alive and –” Once more, his mind shied away from the memory of Oberon’s blunt fingers invading him, making him feel something, some flicker of desire – more than a flicker – in spite of his fear and revulsion. He still had splotches of dried blood on his skin from the bone knife. A long hot shower and a stiff drink sounded like a fantastic idea, but first, he had to get them home.

He perched on the edge of his desk and then stood abruptly as pain flared inside him. Harvey noticed.

“Are you all right?” he asked Mike.

A complicated question. He gazed down at Harvey, trying to decide if the answer was yes or no. Mostly yes, but with an awful lot of no. “Nothing about eight thousand beers won’t cure.”

Something flashed in Harvey’s eyes. Perhaps he was thinking about that forgetting tonic as well.

******

Harvey had been in Mike’s apartment before, although he wasn’t about to admit that to Mike. He knew precisely how many steps there were from the front door to the couch, and possessed just enough remaining energy to stumble his way there and collapse.

“Are you hungry?” Mike asked.

Harvey’s stomach turned over at the thought of eating, but he knew that he required sustenance to restore his energy. He nodded.

Mike opened the refrigerator and stared at the contents. “What kind of things to you eat? Well, hot dogs obviously, but I don’t have any of those.”

“Meh. Let us not speak of hot dogs ever again.” He thought for a moment. “Do you have cake?”

Mike turned to gape at him. “Cake?”

“Preferably strawberry cream. And perhaps some cream with honey to wash it down?”

“No, no and no.” He frowned and withdrew a colorful plastic bottle from the refrigerator. “I do have this. French vanilla creamer. Will that do?”

“I suppose.”

“I could make you some toast.” Mike snapped his fingers. “Cinnamon toast. It’s not cake, but it’s nearly as sweet. You can eat cinnamon, right?”

Harvey shrugged. He’d have to get used to human food. Might as well start by broadening his horizons. “Any chance you’ve got some mead?”

“No … How about a beer?”

“Whatever.”

As Mike set about preparing the food and drink, Harvey closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled, searching within himself for the tiniest glimmer of magic. He felt nothing, and wondered if it was time to panic yet. Without magic, how would he survive in this realm? The humans did it all the time, he reasoned. He would find a way. And there was Mike. Harvey had given up everything for him. Surely he could see that. Except, even in his weakened state, Harvey sensed that something was bothering him, something beyond the obvious trauma of his encounter with Oberon.

Harvey watched Mike in the small kitchen, noting the slump to his shoulders, the unnecessary concentration on his task, the frown that tugged at his mouth. Understandably, he was shaken by what he’d been through. Any human would be. He’d get over it in time. Harvey had watched him take charge in the park when Harvey had been almost too weak to stand. Mike was resilient. He’d be fine.

Mike carried a plate and a bottle into the living room and handed them to Harvey.

“That’s pumpkin spice beer,” he said. “Not mead, but the closest thing I had.”

Harvey took a drink and nearly spit it out. “You drink this?”

“Uh, not really. It was a joke gift from one of my co-workers.”

“Were they trying to assassinate of you?”

“Probably. Forget the beer, then. Try the toast.”

Harvey took a tiny bite. His eyebrows lifted. “Not bad. A little on the dry side. Cake would be better, but this will do.”

Taking the beer from him, Mike returned to the kitchen and came back with a glass filled with milky-colored liquid.

“Is this the creamer?” asked Harvey. At Mike’s confirming nod, he took a cautious sip. It was well-flavored, but not quite natural tasting. After the initial sweetness, his tongue felt coated in chemicals. He forced a smile and thanked Mike.

“Sure.” Mike sat down across from him, his expression troubled. “Is your magic back yet?”

“The answer to that is still no.” Harvey took another sip of the counterfeit cream. The taste was beginning to grow on him. “While I appreciate your concern, there’s no need to worry on my behalf. Your world does not require magic to exist. I’ll be fine.” He wasn’t sure he believed his own words, but wished to put on a brave face.

“That’s the thing,” said Mike. “I mean, I want you to be okay, of course, but I also need to ask you for a favor.”

“Oh?”

“Back in … you know, _that_ place … there was mention of a forgetting tonic. I assume magic is required to concoct one?”

“It is.”

“If – that is, _when_ – your magic returns, I would really like an extra-large serving of that tonic.”

Harvey nodded, trying to convey sympathy. “I think you’ll find that the memories will fade in time.”

“No, they won’t. Not for me. I have the sort of brain that doesn’t forget things. Like, ever.”

“Interesting. I’ve heard of such as you, but you’re the first human I’ve met with that skill.”

“Skill? Try curse.”

Harvey could have told tales of some of the more terrifying curses he’d witnessed over the centuries, to show Mike he was wrong, but he was too weary to initiate a quarrel. Plus, he couldn’t risk annoying Mike and getting tossed out on the street. He tried a different approach. “You realize that if I was able to give you that tonic, you wouldn’t just forget Oberon, you would forget everything about the experience, everything to do with the Faerie Realm.”

“Yes. Yes! That’s exactly what I want. I need it all wiped away, every last bit of it.”

Harvey pursed his lips but did not react otherwise. If he gave him the tonic, Mike’s memories of Harvey would be erased in the process, but this did not seem to bother the human. He was surprised how much this realization bothered him. To be fair, he had been aware of Mike much longer than the human had known of his existence, but he seemed to be in an insultingly desperate rush to forget about Harvey.

“If the magic returns, I’ll grant your wish.” Harvey wasn’t sure he’d possess the will to keep that promise, and for the first time he almost hoped his magic would never return. “In the meantime, I’ll need somewhere to rest and recover my strength.”

Mike’s hesitation conveyed all Harvey needed to know about the current state of his feelings towards him. His silence lasted a bit too long, but then his gratitude and sense of obligation – and his need for Harvey’s magical powers – apparently won out over his desire to immediately expel him from his life. “You can sleep on the couch,” he said. “Make a list of what food and drink you find acceptable, and I’ll do my best to keep you fed.”

Harvey nodded once.

“But as soon as you get your magic back and make me that tonic …”

“Understood. As soon as that happens, I’m on my own.”

Harvey lay down on the couch with his back to Mike. His last words seemed to echo in is head. _I’m on my own._ How true that was. He’d be alone in a world of humans. Ah, well, perhaps Ilslavia was still about and contactable. It was also rumored that Mab had fled here and had not died after all. He heaved a great sigh as he thought about searching either of them out. He’d cut off the way back to the Faerie Realm not just for himself, but for every other fae creature who had been visiting, willingly or not. Perhaps it would be wise not to advertise that fact.

******

Mike returned to work the next morning. Physically, he was all right. Mostly all right. He was exhausted and suffering from a lingering ache where Oberon’s thick fingers had invaded him. Everything was intact and in working order, however, and he couldn’t afford to be absent from the office, not with Travis’s big trial approaching.

Associates, particularly first years, simply did not disappear from the office for an entire afternoon. For most, such a transgression would amount to career suicide. Luckily for Mike, he had built up enough over-achiever capital with Travis to save him from the chopping block – just barely. He did receive a brief, quietly furious lecture from Travis about commitment, responsibility, loyalty and, “getting your goddamn head out of your ass,” followed by a prolonged chilly silence that would last for several days.

Mike got the message and got with the program, diving back into the discovery documents and ignoring the snide, amused glances from his rival first years.

The mountains of work turned about to be a blessing of sorts. He could lose himself in minutiae for hours at a time, a sort of temporary forgetting tonic. There were no more quick dashes down to the hot dog cart. He subsisted on energy drinks and salty food snacks from the vending machine in the break room and managed to forget for a long stretches of time that a magic-depleted royal fairy was currently holed up in his apartment, probably drinking all his creamer and inhaling sugar like a coke fiend.

When Harvey did cross his mind, Mike hoped he would recover sufficiently to whip up that tonic, because whenever Mike set down his highlighter, or paused long enough to think, the memories returned. A bone knife carving into his flesh, decorating him with intricate lines of blood. Savage fingers thrusting into him, opening him up, making him feel … And that huge cock, pressing against his belly or hip, positioned between them like a promise of things to come, threatening to split him open.

_Shit._ If he wasn’t sitting smack in the middle of the bullpen, surrounded by hostiles, he might have rested his face in his hands and allowed tears of reaction to leak through his fingers onto the photocopied documents piled in front of him. He didn’t have that luxury, so he did the only thing he could, pulled himself together and continued with his task.

He might have stayed all night and slept underneath his desk – he’d done that often enough before – but by two in the morning he was exhausted, hungry, and worried that Harvey might have skipped out on him. Leaving his bike chained up outside the building, he caught a cab and went home, stopping first at the 24-hour bodega on the corner to grab a frozen pizza for himself and a selection of Twinkies and other sweet cake-like foods, plus heavy cream and a plastic bottle of honey. Harvey had to eat some kind of protein, he reasoned. While he hadn’t explicitly stated he was a vegetarian, it seemed a pretty good bet, so Mike grabbed a bag of almonds and a can of beans.

Harvey appeared to be asleep when Mike entered the apartment, but he opened his eyes right away, eyeing Mike with what might have been annoyance.

“Working late?” asked Harvey in an accusatory tone, sitting up and smoothing his hair with one hand. He was still wearing the clothes Mike had lent him, which were rumpled and in disarray.

Mike narrowed his eyes, but said nothing, stalking to the kitchen to set down his bag and throw the pizza in the microwave. “I brought you some food,” he said, tossing a Twinkie and a Little Debbie’s cupcake across the room.

Harvey juggled the snack cakes for a second before gaining control, holding one in each hand as he watched Mike pour cream into a glass. “Thank you,” he said, and then under his breath, what sounded like, “strawberry cream cake would have been better.”

Mike walked over to sit next to him on the couch, handing him the cream and holding up the plastic bear-shaped honey container. “Do you take this in the cream, or …?”

Harvey set the snack cakes on the couch cushion between them and took the cream and honey from Mike. “Either way. Separate or together.” He placed the cream on the table next to him and tried to open the honey, but seemed unable to fathom the yellow dispenser sticking out of the top of the bear’s head.

Mike let him struggle with it for half a minute before prying it from his fingers and demonstrating how it worked. Grimacing, Harvey snatched it back from him and squirted nearly a quarter of the honey into his cream. He stirred the concoction with one long finger, licked it clean, and raised the glass to his mouth, taking a long swallow, and then closing his eyes in apparent pleasure as he drank half of it. When he was done, a cream-colored mustache striped his upper lip, giving Mike the sudden desire to lean in and taste it. With a mental shake, he grabbed the two snack cakes and opened them for Harvey, who after a suspicious sniff or two, gobbled them down with relish.

“Not bad,” he said, “although I’m beginning to realize that little of your human food is of entirely natural origins.”

“No. Not the Twinkies, for sure. Because that’s how we humans roll.” That cream mustache was driving him nuts. He pointed to his own face, and then to Harvey’s, who finally got the message, swiping slowly across it with his tongue. Mesmerized, Mike couldn’t look away.

The microwave beeped. Mike stayed where he was.

“Your food summons you,” said Harvey with an amused look.

Mike blinked. “Right. Thanks.”

When he came back from the kitchen with a plate of pizza, he carried the almonds, which he handed to Harvey. “In case you want to pump the brakes on that slide into Type 2 diabetes.”

Continuing to look as if Mike was the most entertaining and confusing creature he’d ever encountered, Harvey polished off the snack cakes, almonds and honeyed cream, while Mike inhaled the pizza. When Mike was done, he stood up and carried dishes and trash into the kitchen. Harvey’s gaze never left him.

“I need to grab some sleep,” said Mike. “I have to be back at work in about four hours.”

Harvey gave a dispirited nod.

“If you’re bored, I have lots of books, or you could watch tv.” He handed Harvey the remote and showed him how to turn on the television and switch to his streaming services. “That should keep you occupied. I’ll try to find time to get you an extra key to the apartment tomorrow. Or today, I guess. Until then, you probably shouldn’t go outside.”

Another nod from Harvey.

Mike walked to his bedroom door and then paused, turning back to look at Harvey. “Any, you know, tingles today?”

“Tingles?”

“Go on and laugh. I don’t know what your magic feels like. I figured maybe you got little jolts or tingles.”

The smile dropped from Harvey’s face. “No, no tingles. No magic.”

“Oh. You’ll let me know as soon as it’s back, right?”

“Absolutely.”

Later, Mike woke himself up with his own cries of distress. The nightmare faded too quickly for him to remember the details, but the sensation of terror and pain lingered. A sound in the doorway of his room caused him to glance up, and he found Harvey standing there, staring in at him, face expressionless. “What?” he asked.

“Are you well, Mike?”

The answer to that seemed obvious, so Mike rolled over, turning his back to Harvey.

******

The first time Harvey heard Mike tossing and crying out in the throes of a nightmare, he hoped it would be the last. It wasn’t. Every night – when Mike bothered to come home from the office at all – the dream, or some version of it, apparently repeated itself. If it woke Mike up, he found Harvey standing watch over him from the doorway. More often than not, he didn’t wake up, but Harvey stayed nearby anyway. He couldn’t offer comfort, not if Mike didn’t ask for it. He never did.

Every morning when he got up to go to work, and every night (or early morning) when he returned home, Mike asked him the same thing. “Has your magic returned?”

And every day his answer was the same. “Not yet.”

After nearly two weeks, it became more and more difficult to say those two words without a pang of guilt, because his magic had begun to return after his first full day of rest. By now he felt as strong as he ever had. If he admitted that to Mike, he’d expect Harvey to use his magic to help him forget. If he did that, Mike would lose all his memories of Harvey, along with Oberon and the Faerie Realm. When that happened, he would have to leave, because why would Mike allow a complete stranger to sleep on his couch?

Harvey would find himself alone in an unfamiliar world, forced to make his own way. Not that this was a particular worry for him now that his magic was back. He’d survive. He’d thrive with his magic to help him along. Already, he’d been keeping himself fed through magic, since the odd-tasting cakes were gone, and Mike hadn’t brought home anymore of them. Yes, he could survive in this realm, but he’d have to do it without Mike.

After giving up everything for him, this seemed grossly unfair.

While Mike spent long hours away from the apartment pursuing his career, Harvey whiled away most of his time in front of the television. He wasn’t unfamiliar with these things but had never bothered to investigate one too closely. Now he had ample time and opportunity. He wanted to despise it. At first, it seemed a garish, glowing showcase for all that was stupid and trivial about the humans. Images of smug men and women sneered through the screen at him, snarling the “news,” most of which he knew to be distorted or false. They spoke with exaggerated, self-righteous sincerity, reminding him of some of the Evil Fae he’d heard about but never met. The Sluagh came to mind, sadistic, foul-smelling creatures who reputedly flourished on sowing chaos and fear.

Other channels, especially in the early hours of the morning, earnestly hawked merchandise, broadcasting their claims over and over as if intent upon hypnotizing the viewer, weakening their resolve until the victim believed that one odd device would make the difference between mere contentment with one’s lot and sheer bliss. When, after one hour-long session of indoctrination, he found himself wondering how one went about obtaining a credit card, he switched the channel in disgust.

Eventually, he found his way to the endless tales of drama, suspense and romance, what Mike had termed his “streaming services.” The wood nymphs had occasionally put on plays at Oberon’s command, but those seemed simple and rather innocent now compared to the intense, complex, fast-moving dramas that the television offered. It almost felt like a sort of magic, that he could point a wand, press a button or two, and summon a seemingly infinite number of plays.

The entertainment was engrossing, but secondary to the education he was receiving. He learned the ins and outs and nuances of the human world. Turns of phrase that had confused him before became clearer. Those doors Mike had gone on about – number two, number three – almost made sense when mentioned in a snippet of dialog within a play – no, not a play, a “show” – about quarreling lovers fleeing from officers of the law.

The motives of the actors were often confusing. The humans had something called “self-sacrifice” which he at first assumed had to be fake, but it happened over and over in the dramas, often at the most pivotal moment of the story. During his first days of viewing, he often found himself scowling at the screen, disgusted at the choice made by the main actor. He held arguments with the television.

“You could have gotten away with all the gold and avoided every consequence. Fool. Why rescue the weak one? Why risk yourself?”

After a steady diet of human dramas, he began to get a faint inkling of what lay behind this contrary behavior. The humans put great store in love and friendship and something even more confusing called, “doing the right thing.”

When he grew weary of the television, and his eyes became dry and gritty from watching, he ventured outside to practice behaving as a human and pondering how to spend all of the days that stretched before him in this realm. Mike had a job, which seemed confusingly important to him. Perhaps Harvey should get one of those. It was a foreign concept to him, but one that was evidently widely regarded as the essence of a human’s identity. Using the television shows as his guide, the most intriguing choices included police detective (with a tragic past), high-powered or underdog attorneys (with a past), superheroes, and children and adults with what Mike would have called supernatural powers.

The stories were absurd, pulse-pounding, reasonably entertaining. They helped fill the hours, and to allow him to forget about the dilemma he faced with Mike, who was clearly suffering. Harvey held the key to giving him peace. His Dark Fae instincts told him to shrug it off, to pursue whatever was in his own self-interest.

Those early morning whimpering cries, though, and those ever-present circles underneath Mike’s eyes were beginning to erode Harvey’s staunch self-interest and to make him feel … something. Compassion? Empathy? The thought of either caused him to shudder with distaste. It must be a lingering effect of his recent weakness, he decided. He only needed to wait it out and eventually he would return to his normal ruthless, amoral self. Until that happened, he would have to find other ways to make Mike forget his ordeal in the Faerie Realm.

******

“Go home,” said Travis. He loomed over Mike’s desk, glaring at him with undisguised irritation.

“What? Why? I have too much work to get through. Trial starts in two weeks.”

“I’ll find another associate to fill in. You’re next to worthless to me right now. I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but you’ve been stumbling around here like a sleepwalker for more than a week, making the sort of mistakes I might have expected from …” He glanced around the bullpen at the other associates, who were either cowering or smirking, enjoying the comeuppance of golden boy Mike. “From Harold or, or, that brown-haired guy over there. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’ve just been pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m fine,” Mike got out through stiff lips. “I’m good for at least another four hours.”

“You’re not.” Travis’s handsome features softened slightly and he leaned in closer so that only Mike could hear him. “You’re a talented attorney. Or you will be with more seasoning. I’d hate to see you flame out before your first year is up. You need to recharge.”

“Travis …”

“Go home. Get some rest. Sleep for at least twelve hours and have a real meal. When you start feeling like your old self again, you can come back. Until that happens, I don’t want to see you here. Got it?”

Mike’s belly burned with resentment, but he forced himself to nod, to collect his coat and messenger bag, and to make a speedy exit, chased by the sounds of a low chorus of whispers and sniggers.

Harvey was where he always found him, lying on the couch, absorbed in some inane drama on the television. The only indication that Mike had surprised him by appearing in the middle of the afternoon was one elegantly arched eyebrow.

Ignoring him, Mike went into the kitchen, intent on having that “real meal” Travis had insisted on. He found a moldy crust of bread, takeout containers filled with moldy, unidentifiable food, and four pumpkin spice beers, which may as well have been moldy considering how disgusting they tasted. He was reaching for his phone to order something for dinner when it occurred to him that Harvey had run out of food as well.

“Hey,” he called across the room, “I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?” Harvey barely glanced at him.

“I should have bought you some more food.”

Harvey finally looked directly at him, slowly sitting up on the couch. From a distance, it almost looked as if he was blushing, but that must have been a reflection of the flashing red police lights on the television screen.

“It’s fine,” said Harvey. “I haven’t had much of an appetite.”

“How are you going to regain your strength if you don’t eat?” They both knew that by “strength,” he meant “magic.”

Harvey pointed the remote at the television and paused the action. Fixing Mike with what he’d come to think of as his “devastatingly charming royal fairy smile,” Harvey said, “Have you been worrying about me, Mike?”

Mike winced at this. In truth, his worry for Harvey had only extended to whether or not his magic could provide him with the longed-for therapeutic amnesia. As he took a close look at Harvey for the first time in two weeks, he noticed how wan he appeared, how tense and dispirited despite the brave front he was putting on.

“Of course,” he lied. “I’ve just been so busy at work that things got away from me. I can run up to the store and grab you some more snack cakes. Unless you’d like something else?”

“I suppose I could do with a change. I’ll eat whatever you’re having.”

Mike wished his grandmother had included instructions on the care and feeding of fairy expatriates in her stories. His human sensibilities recoiled at the thought of all the sugar and saturated fat he’d seen Harvey consume. “Would you eat a salad?” he asked.

“Whatever you’re having,” Harvey repeated.

Mike had been thinking about a pizza, but they could have both. He ordered a veggie pizza and two salads, and went to take a shower.

Harvey seemed to tolerate the salad, although he managed to drink half the packet of thousand island dressing before Mike explained that was not how it was usually done. He also tried the pizza and didn’t seem to mind it. They ate sitting side by side on the couch while Harvey’s show finished. When the final credits rolled, Mike appropriated the remote and turned off the television.

“Aren’t you even going to ask why I’m home so early?”

Harvey shot him a look. “I understand little of what you do all day, least of all your comings and goings.”

“I’m a lawyer. You know what that is, right?”

An incredulous look from Harvey. “Of course. It might interest you to know that I’m considered something of an expert regarding what is lawful in the Faerie Realm.” He grimaced. “Was an expert.”

“Huh. If I’d known that, I would have hired you to represent me while I was there.”

“That would not have been lawful.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Of course not. You fairies are in the business of screwing up people’s lives, not helping them.”

Harvey shifted to face him more directly. “I protected you in the end and violated the most sacred and fundamental law of my realm. I pledged loyalty to Oberon long before you were born. I broke my oath in order to rescue you. Perhaps you should show a bit more gratitude.”

Anger seemed to animate Harvey, to light him from within. All at once, he appeared several orders of magnitude more attractive than the sad, defeated person who had been camping out on Mike’s couch. Mike studied him with fresh eyes. “I am grateful,” he said. “I should have been clearer about that. It’s just … I’ve been preoccupied.”

Anger transformed into compassion and Harvey reached over to touch Mike’s knee. “Your distress has not gone unnoticed.”

A week ago, Mike might have recoiled from Harvey’s touch. Now, his leg tingled where Harvey’s hand still lay on it. “You know what I want from you.”

“If I could give it to you, I would.” Harvey studied him, seeming to conduct a brief, internal debate. “There are other ways of forgetting. Other ways of putting the past behind you.”

His long fingers moved subtly, massaging Mike’s thigh with a featherlight touch that sent jolts of pleasure through him. He sucked in a quick breath, shocked at his own reaction. He dreamed of Oberon every night, woke up gasping and sweating as the memory of Oberon’s knife, of his invading fingers, of his remote, amused and wholly foreign face filled him with horror once more, as if it had just happened.

Harvey only fed into those memories. Not only was he proving unable to provide Mike with the one thing he’d kept him around for, but his presence, his fae-ness, made it impossible to move past the memories.

And yet, here was Harvey with his hand on Mike, sliding closer, placing his other hand on Mike back, teasing his ear with his thumb, leaning forward as if he intended …

Harvey kissed him. Mike froze. His brain froze, along with his body and his will. Harvey’s tongue teased its way into his mouth and the initial tingle exploded into an electrifying blast that burned away all resistance and common sense in an instant.

Mike clutched Harvey’s shoulders, dragging him closer, deepening the kiss as harsh, hungry animal sounds filled the air around them, all of them coming from him. Gentle and insistent, Harvey maneuvered him onto his back and lay on top of him, invading Mike’s senses with one impossibly erotic kiss after another. The tiny portion of his mind which continued to process rational thought questioned how this could be happening, how he could be on the precipice of the most powerful orgasm of his life so quickly and from kisses alone. Doubt lasted only a moment, and then he was consumed, lost to the unearthly passion, plastering his body to Harvey’s, thrusting mindlessly up and up, striving to get closer.

It was left to Harvey to pull back and slow the pace. His dark eyes glittered as he fixed his gaze on Mike. He touched a finger to Mike’s lips and smiled slowly. Even that tiny point of contact maddened Mike. He groaned and gathered handfuls of Harvey’s shirt in his hands, trying to pull him closer, needing him pressed against him again, but Harvey shook his head, his smile growing beautifully wicked.

“No,” Harvey murmured. “I want to take my time.” With more grace than Mike could have managed in his addled state, Harvey slid off him and rose to his feet, offering Mike a hand. “I would take you to bed.”

Mike frowned. “You would? If what?”

Confusion clouded Harvey’s features for an instant. “Don’t play games with me. Not now.” He tugged on Mike’s hand, dragging him to his feet and pulling him close to plant another scorching kiss on his lips. “Let me fuck you,” he breathed against Mike’s cheek.

It seemed absurd that he would even have to seek permission. Panting, Mike nodded, and allowed Harvey to lead him into the bedroom.

******

Being inside of Mike felt every bit as sweet as Harvey had imagined it would be. He’d placed Mike on his knees, guided his hands to clutch the headboard while he eased into him, savoring every gasp and mewl that Mike made. He might have preferred to fuck him face-to-face but couldn’t chance Mike reading something in his expression that gave away his deceit. Not only had he lied to Mike about his magic returning, but he’d drawn upon it to aid his seduction, rationalizing to himself that here was a way he could help Mike forget, at least for a time, without eradicating his memories of Harvey.

This sort of deception wasn’t new to Harvey. He was Dark Fae, and had done far worse with zero qualms. Why should it bother him where Mike was concerned? He suspected he knew the answer but was nowhere near being able to admit it to himself. For now, he simply wished to luxuriate in the pleasure of the moment.

He gripped Mike hips and pulled almost all the way out before sinking inside him once more, setting a slow, strong tempo. Mike pushed back in perfect rhythm, arching his neck and groaning his heartfelt approval.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Mike gasped. “Why does this feel so good?”

Why, indeed? Harvey redoubled his efforts, speeding his thrusts, jarring the bed and jarring, he hoped, all thoughts and questions from Mike’s head. A small smile teased his mouth as he listened to Mike’s harsh grunts, set in time to the pounding Harvey was giving him. Had there ever been a human so perfect, so exquisite? None of the captors he’d shared with Oberon had ever heated his blood the way this one did.

With faint amazement, he heard his own voice cry out in exultation, “Mike, oh, Mike, loveliest of men, I –” He snapped his mouth shut just in time to prevent the astonishing confession from bursting out of him.

He drove harder than ever into Mike, reaching beneath him to stroke him to completion. Expertly, he brought him right to the edge, eased off, brought him to the edge once more, and repeated the process half a dozen times, until Mike was weeping and all but screaming with frustration. When he judged that Mike could endure no more, he stroked him hard and fast and allowed him his release. Mike convulsed, howling, tightening and spasming around Harvey, who paused deep inside him, all but lost to the sensations.

Shudders of ecstasy woven through with wild magic ripped through both of them. Harvey mouthed Mike’s shoulder and tightened his arms around his middle, swept away as he’d never been before. The only word he could remember for long minutes was “Mike.” He murmured it over and over into Mike’s damp shoulder, unable to move, or think, or exist outside of that moment.

Then, too exhausted and sated to sustain the spell, he let the magic slip from him as his cock slipped from Mike. He lay half on top of Mike, breathing hard, drifting in total contentment, prepared to stay that way forever if he could.

His first warning of trouble was a sudden tenseness in Mike’s body. An instant later, Mike rolled away from him and jumped off the bed, backing away and staring at Harvey in apparent horror.

“What did you do to me?” he rasped.

Normally quick-witted, Harvey could not even dredge up a weak, “What?” He knew what was coming from Mike’s expression before he spoke the words out loud.

“That was magic,” whispered Mike. “What you did to me. I felt it. I didn’t know what it was, but I felt it. You got your magic back. You’re a fucking liar. And a … a … bastard.”

“Mike, just wait …”

“Wait? I’ve been waiting. I’ve been losing sleep, messing up at work, going out of my fucking mind, and you could have made it all go away, but you didn’t. You stuck around, biding your time until you could hit me with a sneak attack. You’re a liar and a piece of shit and I want you out of here right fucking now.”

What could Harvey say to all of that? Mike was right about everything. Almost everything. Certainly, he’d wanted Mike and had used magic to speed his seduction along, but for once it hadn’t only been about him. He’d wanted to help Mike forget, and had used the second-best method he could think of. It had worked, too, until Harvey had grown careless and withdrawn the magic too quickly.

The game was up, and he’d lost everything.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. I deceived you.”

“Less talking, more leaving.” Mike pointed a shaking hand toward the front door.

“I’ll go, but before I do, I’ll give you what you want.”

“I said – wait. What? You’ll make the forgetting tonic?”

The relief and hope in Mike’s eyes were painful to witness. He couldn’t wait to be rid of Harvey, both his physical presence and his memories of him. Standing, Harvey collected his clothes and got dressed. After a hesitation, Mike did the same, and then followed Harvey as he walked into the living room.

“What do you need?” Mike asked. “Herbs? Mushrooms? Eye of newt?”

“Wrong on all counts.”

Mike glared at him, arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently.

Time for another confession. “The tonic is not necessary, strictly speaking, at least not for high level Fae such as myself.”

“Fine. Then what –”

Mike flinched when Harvey approached him, tried to back away from his reach, but Harvey was too fast for him. He touched a finger to the middle of Mike’s forehead, surging every bit of his magic to that point of contact, and spoke one word. “Forget.”

Mike’s eyes went wide. A second later, he collapsed and would have hit the floor, but Harvey caught him in his arms and carried him back to the bedroom where he lay him carefully on the bed and covered him with a blanket. After a moment’s consideration, he waved one hand and magicked away all evidence of their coupling.

Time to leave. Mike would wake in a few hours with no recollection of Harvey or Oberon or his misadventures in the Faerie Realm. He might feel befuddled for a time, but that would pass, and he would go on with his life as if nothing had happened.

It was difficult to drag himself away. He stood for longer than he should have staring down at Mike, memorizing his face and his form, already beginning to grieve for what he had lost.

Finally, as he headed for the front door, he cast a hateful glance at Mike’s television. All those stories of noble self-sacrifice had failed to convey the bone-deep anguish of choosing another’s needs and desires over one’s own. Scowling, he left the apartment and went out to face the foreign realm which would forever be his home.

He could choose his own path now, with the advantage of his magic ensuring success in whichever direction he took. This knowledge brought no solace. He’d left everything he’d wanted behind him, three stories up, and his hard, dark, Fae heart, he feared, was broken into a million pieces.

******

**Three Months Later**

Mike groaned, rested his head in his hands, and grinned through pain. He’d been out late last night celebrating with Travis. They’d settled their big case on the verge of going to court, following a series of continuances granted by the judge. Their client was now several hundreds of millions of dollars richer. More importantly, the firm was richer, and Mike was all but guaranteed a tasty little bonus at the end of the year. Travis had even hinted that he might get his own office. Hopefully, that hadn’t been all the alcohol talking.

Mike savored the seething glares of resentment from the other associates as he arrived this morning. Not even the insistent throbbing ache of his hangover could ruin this day for him. Popping another aspirin, he washed it down with coffee and set about organizing the piles of neglected work on his desk. He could probably plow through most of it by noon, he decided. Maybe by then Travis would have a juicy new case for him to work on.

The commotion in the associates’ bullpen began subtly. A few whispers, an exclamation cut off in mid-exclaim. A buzz of conversation built in volume and then ceased when Louis strutted into the bullpen and clapped his hands a few times to get their attention. He did not look happy.

“Everyone, go to the lobby. Now.”

The only one that stood up was Harold, who quickly sat down when no one else moved. A second later he popped to his feet again, his gaze darting between Louis and the hallway that led to the lobby.

“It’s a three-letter word people,” said Louis. “N. O. W. Now.” His trademark annoyed finger-snapping started. “Come on, people, be obsequious, like Harold. Let’s move it.”

A few shifty looks were exchanged between Kyle and Devon, but all the associates rose obediently to their feet and began shuffling towards the lobby. They were joined along the way by assistants, paralegals, and the lawyers who inhabited the offices in this part of the floor. By the time they reached the lobby, it looked as if the entire firm had shown up. Jessica was there already, standing next to Travis. As third named partner, Louis took his place next to them.

“Oh, shit,” hissed Harold in Mike’s ear, “there’s food and an espresso cart. This must be big.”

“Hush,” Mike returned absently. He didn’t care about the food. His gaze had zeroed in on the eye candy.

An unfamiliar man stood next to Jessica, standing tall like royalty, dark eyes taking in the gathered mob as if deciding who should be beheaded and who should be spared. Mike straightened his spine as the man’s gaze paused on him. His heart sped up for no discernible reason, except that the man was good-looking. Extraordinarily good-looking, in fact. Mike was reasonably certain he’d never been so close to anyone as attractive as this guy. He wouldn’t mind being even closer. The man’s gaze moved on and Mike blushed belatedly.

Jessica began to speak. “Thank you all for taking a few minutes to gather together and greet our newest senior partner.”

The stunned silence that greeted this pronouncement was followed almost immediately with a scattering of low, disgruntled murmurs, probably from all the junior partners recalculating how much longer it would now be before they ascended to the lofty heights of senior partner.

Jessica’s face twitched, but she never lost her serene smile. “Please say hello to Harvey Specter, who comes to us by way of one of Boston’s most prestigious firms. Harvey, welcome to the firm.”

She turned to Harvey, arms extended, and applauded. After the briefest hesitation, the rest of the firm followed suit with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

Harvey made a half bow that looked almost courtly in its elegance. “Thank you, Jessica, for that warm welcome. I look forward to working with you all and doing my part to make this firm even stronger – and richer.”

The applause sounded slightly more sincere this time. With lawyers, as Mike was discovering, most things could be forgiven if the right amount of money was involved.

“Sadly,” Harvey continued, “it’s a bit too early for champagne, but please enjoy the sweets I have provided.” He swept an arm to the side, indicating a table filled with cinnamon rolls, several kinds of danish, bagels, fruit, and an entire strawberry cream cake. He nodded at the espresso cart. “And be sure to fuel up on caffeine. I’ve heard about the long hours you work. The cart will be here all morning.”

Mike stepped aside to avoid the initial stampede. The firm’s employees – particularly the associates – elbowed and hip-checked one another to get to the table first, as if they had all been denied food for the past month. They filled their paper plates, and in minutes the table looked as if a swarm of locusts had descended. Every bagel, danish and cinnamon roll had vanished. Mike helped himself to some fruit and eyed the long line at the espresso cart. Maybe later, he decided.

He turned to go back to his desk and nearly collided with Harvey. “Sorry,” he muttered, barely remembering to add, “welcome to the firm. I’m Mike.”

He held out his hand. When Harvey took it, Mike felt an actual tingle from the contact. Embarrassed, he extricated his hand and turned to stare fixedly in the other direction.

“Nobody touched the cake,” said Harvey.

“What?” Mike glanced at the table and saw that yes, the strawberry cake remained intact. “I guess it’s not exactly a breakfast food.”

“You don’t think so?” Harvey shrugged and picked up a knife. “I could eat cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

Mike’s gaze roamed over Harvey’s perfect physique. “You must do a lot of pushups, then.” Another blush washed over him, and he winced. “I mean … that was … I didn’t …”

“Mike. Have some cake. Here, give me your plate.”

He watched as Harvey placed a huge slice of cake on top of the fruit. When Harvey set a hand on his shoulder, he had to lock his knees to keep from sliding to the floor in a boneless heap. Talk about _zing-bang-boom._ Fireworks went off in his brain, along with a huge _DANGER_ sign flashing on and off. He would need to keep his distance from this one, for sure.

“Who do you work for?” asked Harvey, licking frosting from his long fingers while somehow retaining an air of nonchalant innocence.

Mike might have made an embarrassing squeak, if he’d had enough moisture in his mouth to produce any sound at all.

Travis chose that moment to walk up to them. “Mike’s the best first-year in the firm,” he said, placing a hand on Mike’s other shoulder, as if about to engage in a tug-of-war with Harvey. “He works for me.”

“Does he?” Harvey let go of Mike, picked up a fork, and ate a bite of Mike’s cake. “I suppose we’ll have to see about that.” He winked at Mike and strolled away, down the hall.

Mike couldn’t stop staring at his receding back.

“Don’t worry about that guy,” said Travis. “I don’t even know why Jessica hired him.” He let out a short laugh. “I’m not sure she knows herself.” He gave Mike’s shoulder a friendly shake and released him. “Go on and get to work. It’s going to be a great day. Did you see that rainbow this morning? Right over the building. Amazing. It must be a good sign.”

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Hope you all are safe and healthy. Let's make it through this cursed year, shall we? The next year must be better, right? Right???!!!


End file.
